“I should be afraid it would be catching.” (By the way, he does it almost continually.) “Then his tradesmen! — such wretches! O, insupportable! — here’s a shoe! — and then what a coat! why that man has not three ideas in a week. Then we do so loll in a chaise! — for when I go my rounds, I always take a chaise and four — and we are so much at our ease! — I go from Barborne on my own horse — and so the good folks there think I ride her all the way — Ha — Ha — Ha! — but the first inn I come to — I leave the poor jade behind me, order a chaise and four — and as I return stop at the same inn — and go back to Barborne on my horse!”
“This, I own, I much admire — it is so considerate for the poor horse — to let her rest; — that is really humane!”
“O — meerly for the horse! — and I always feed it with com — the creature grows so fat and plump! In truth I believe riding saves my life — otherwise, my late hours — Do you know, it stands me in a hundred a year for chaises; — the time I spend at inns — which is very little — and there I can only get Port and Madeira — for people, hang ’em wont sell anything better.”.... “But I would advise you to set up a few inns of your own — that may accommodate you better.”
“Then again, I subscribe to every thing — they always bring me all subscription papers—’ Come — you know, you’ll give us your name — I know you are a young man that encourage these sort of things.’”
“O, I dare say, any arts and sciences.”
“And then — Ha! ha! — God so — I often sign them without reading! — and when I’ve wrote my name — I look over what its to!” Here he burst out a laughing, as at his own absurdity — and we cordially accompanied him. “Then they keep monstrous tables in the country — not that I care for the victuals — not in the least — only the shew — nay I dislike their dishes — though I always eat them — but then the beef is always put on the side table I — so I swallow the [ragout] that is before me — though, faith, I love the [beef best] of all things! — but it would be impossible to call for it, you know.”
“O, utterly — that would be having such a vulgar appetite!”
“Ha — Ha — Ha! — a vulgar appetite! — Then again, I am Master of the Ceremonies at all the Balls — and Conductor at all the Concerts.”....
He wished us of his party at the opera — made his bow — said it would go off with [twice] the spirit if we were there — and decamped..... His foppery, airs, and affectation are dreadful, but he has at times, strong humour, great quickness, and in spight of his follies, is sensible, clever, and agreeable. And it is very obvious, that he takes much more trouble to be a coxcomb than he need to be a man of sense —
* * * * * *
About three o’clock, the rest of our company came. And from that time, was my comfort over, for my uncle is so... yet, I should not have regarded him, if mama had been at home, but, upon my word, appearing as Mistress of the house [for the first time] distressed me beyond imagination.... so criticizing an eye, and one that makes no allowances! I would not go through such another day for the world.
* * * * * *
Tuesday, April.
* * * * * *
About two my uncle came, Mr. Richard with him. The former went with my father into the study, and we had a sequel to the Saturday’s conversation — Speaking of the clubs in and about Worcester he spoke with infinite pleasure of being President — I found they were chiefly musical ones, and I asked him how he came to be always first man, which he said he was — ....
“O — ma’am, why I have it all my own way I have all power — I direct and fix every thing — nothing can be done without my consent. I have a casting vote — I make all the motions — in short, my power is unlimited.”
“And I don’t doubt but you make a good use of it — and keep them all in order. And what else do you do?”
“Why I put about the wine — take care they all give their toasts — First we go round with sentiments, and then ladies—”
“And you take care they take but half glasses, I am sure? — or at least that they drink half water?”
“O Lord no, ma’am — that is always an affront — no, a full bumper! [always.]”
“And do you all give toasts?”
“O yes, ma’am, every body.”
“And how many have you? three or four?”
“Three or four! Lord bless me! three or four and twenty!”
“And does every body drink three or four and twenty toasts?”.... “O, we never go beyond the [ — ] but I give permission, sometimes, to some of them to mix a little water — we don’t like it — but I connive at a few.”
“O, fie! that’s terrible want of spirit!.... I can’t imagine how you find time for all this.”
“O, with great difficulty, but there would be no living in the country without. All day I am fagging at business — then in the evening I begin to live. We never break-up till morning. Sometimes I go to bed at 3 or 4 — and am up again at 6, and begin my rides — which keep me in health. But I am convinced that people may live upon a third part of the sleep they give themselves, if it is sound — It is all custom — For my part I can’t bear bed — it is such a total loss of time! and then, I am commonly.... master of the Ceremonies, which obliges me to call all the minuets — lead out the ladies — fix on the gentlemen — O! I have such a fuss to settle disputes! — every thing is referred to me—’ Sir, was not this my dance?’
‘No, sir, I am sure it was my turn’— ‘Now pray sir, tell me, did not this gentleman do so — or so? Gad so! it is such fun!” and then he put on such a....
... “quite dreadful!... you know I am.. to be bashful I always wanted courage.”
“That is what I pity you for!”
“O, dreadful, indeed.... to know ones self looked at by every body — that one is the object most observed in the room — O, its horrible! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
* * * * *
[Monday.
Richard has spent all the morning with Susette and me...] I had heard his brother Charles often mention a Mrs. S., a woman of fortune and figure, who lives near Bewdley, and had taken a most violent liking to Richard, insomuch as to invite him to town with her. I enquired whether he had visited Mrs. S. since he came to town? “No; he had not had time to call.”
“I hear you go there very often, and are much in favour.”... “I am such a favourite, she does nothing but flatter me, and says such things to me, though I doubt not but she abuses me behind my back; O! I know she does, by what she says of others; but I seem to be every thing there. The moment I go in, she runs up to me, ‘My dear Burney;’ and leaves whoever is there to themselves..... though perhaps there may be somebody of high [ — ] in the room, but she flings herself on her settee, and calls me to her, and there we sit and laugh at the old codgers, — who stare so at us! ha! ha! ha! Then she’ll begin to tell me the London news of the winter, and private anecdotes of Lady Sarah this, and my Lord Duke, and the Marquis, — and does so run on, and abuses everybody! And I know the moment I am gone, ’tis the same with me.”
“What a strange character,” [said I;] “but how every body must wonder at her.”
“Lord! yes; why they’ll come in, and hardly get a word from her; but she lolls at one side, and I at the other; and we have all our own talk; and we so enjoy their wonder! and, if any body comes in, she’ll just turn her head and say, ‘How do do? How do do? Well; and so, Burney;’ — and then run on again to me, and take no more notice of them.”
“Why, I think she can’t be much visited.”
“O! she won’t, by the country ladies; she won’t let them come near her, and sometimes she’ll be denied to people, when she’s at the window! But she always lets me in, and says such things to me! before her husband!”
“Her husband!” we both exclaimed, “what, is he alive? [Is there a husband in the case?”] “O! yes.”
“And what sort of a man is he?”
“A very good-natured man (archly) upon my word! very go
od-natured!”
“But how does he like this strange conduct?”
“Why, I don’t know; she does not mind him; he’s a spruce little counsellor; but we seldom speak with him. The two Miss S — s, the mother, and I get into a party, and we leave him as much to himself, as if he was not in the room.”
“How old is Miss S.?”
“About fifteen or sixteen, — a very fine girl.”
“What a strange family it must seem in the country!”
“O! God, yes; she sees I smoak her, and that has kept me in favour..... but you’d be surprised to hear the things she says to me, such flattery, and insists on it all being true, and I laugh! I never laugh anywhere so much! But, she praises people in such a manner to their faces! and so many of them believe her, and then, — they are done for! She’ll never see ’em again. No; it won’t do! she gets rid of them as fast as possible; and so she would of me, if I had been taken in. The people of Bewdley are all so surprised; they say, ‘why, how does Burney manage to keep well in that house so long?”’ “O! if she saw you believed her, she would soon discard you!..... Pray, what age is she?”
“About thirty, or rather more. She has very much the look of an Italian — black eyes and hair and a sallow complection. When she was young, what a coquet she was! She entertains me with histories of her amours before her marriage, and tells me who she really liked, and who not, and all before her husband.”
“O! I think the better of her for that.”
“Why yes, perhaps, but its very — its odd!”
“It is, indeed, that she should talk so at all.”
“But what does the poor man do [all the while]?”
“Why, — he walks about the room, — as I have seen other men, at a quick rate, up and down, as if for exercise; thus — (mocking him,) and this he will do for hours. Then, he whistles, — and sometimes he’ll stop, and take up my hat — and put it on, ‘ My dear, have you seen Burney’s new hat?’ Then he’ll walk to the glass, and turn it about, ‘Lord! these young fellows.’ Then Mrs. S. calls out, ‘I wish you would let the hat alone; you know nothing at all of the matter; so, pray put it down.’—’ Well, my dear, — I only—’ and then he walks again! Sometimes he examines my cane, or anything that is new; ‘Pray, my dear, have you seen Burney’s cane?’ — and then she scolds, ‘Mr. S., will you leave Mr. Burney’s things alone?’”
“But I can’t help pitying the daughters.”
[Here about eight lines are scored out, which seem to have contained Fanny’s blame of Mrs. S. A line of Richard’s defence may be read—” Why, really I do believe she is, in fact, a woman of as good principles as lives.”]
“and when she is serious, extremely humane.”
“She is the oddest character I ever heard [of]. How was you first introduced to her?”
“Why, Milton” (n b. Milton is a relation of his, and formerly assistant to his father,) went there to tune die harpsichord, and I believe taught there some time. O my stars! how they do laugh at Milton! — well one day when I was at Bewdley,... after my first leaving London near five years ago, it was settled that I should ride over there with him. We were shewn into a parlour — Mrs. S. was with company in another — so I seated myself at the harpsichord, and began playing — soon after she came in — with such an air! — and flung herself on a chair by the harpsichord, lent on both her elbows, and stared me full in the face!.... “[Did you blush?”
“O, always! I always blush But the fact is] I was a little upon the reserve at first. But I found it would not do — no — I was obliged to fling it off — And the Bewdley people think me so different! — for one is obliged to adapt one’s self a little to the company one is with — so there I appear so serious and sedate! — and then when they see me at Mrs. S.’s — I am all airs and graces and affectation and so fine! — so much the thing!”.... “I am quite sorry for the Miss S.’s! — it is terrible to have them brought up in such a manner.”
“O, they enjoy it of all things.”.... “[Mrs. S.] knows nothing at all of her family — she leans both her arms on the table, when we go to dinner, and looks about her, as if to see what there is — but she makes her husband carve — then she’ll peer about ‘pray what’s that — in that comer? — what have you got behind that dish? — it looks nasty Burney, you sha’nt eat that.’ — Then she takes great pleasure in pumping me, and is for ever telling me of reports she says she hears — merely to pump me — so I always assent — I never contradict her— ‘do you really?’— ‘ay, I hear that such a one’—’ do you, indeed?’ — Then she’ll run on about the people she wants me to see— ‘O, Burney, you must see Lady Betty! you will be quite in love with her — the sweetest creature — you must see Lady Betty! — Then she used to form such schemes for my coming to town! — and she charged me, if I did not, that I would write to her. Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“Upon my word!—”
“O, you can conceive nothing like it — If I am not exact to my time — when I get to Bewdley I am sure to find a note waiting for me and such enquiries sent all about Bewdley — and often I find two or three notes — read this first, wrote upon [one — Then such a reception! ‘My dear Burney!]
* * * * *
... ‘My dear Madam!’ (Here he mimicked his own foppery to admiration). Then the moment I am gone, I dare say, she calls me puppy, coxcomb, prig, and all the names she can invent — not that I ever heard she did — but she serves every body so. Then she takes great pleasure in telling us of her old favourites— ‘That was such a sweet fellow! — O Bet! — if you had seen Vincent! — what a sweet fellow! — O God! how I loved him! — and her husband in the room all the while! — Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“But what can the poor man say?”
“Say! — Why he talks about the roads — whistles—’ Pray, Burney, have you got that place mended in the road yet?’ — Then she’ll pull me by the sleeve—’ Never mind him—’”... “so, what did he say next?”—” ‘I say, Burney, that is a very bad road that leads to your house — when will it be mended?’
‘Why, sir— “Lord, don’t mind him — well, who came—’
‘Pray, Burney, have you heard who was at the turnpike meeting on Monday?’ — Then she always pulls my sleeve, and won’t let me answer him! — I just turn round to him— ‘Sir, I think — O, ma’am, — there was such sport — Sir, it’s next — so Mr such-a-one — its next Tuesday, Sir, — and afterwards Mrs.—”
He turned from side to side with such drollness that I could almost fancy I saw them, and we laughed till we were tired. “Then she’ll call the youngest girl to her and take off her cap, to shew me her hair, which is the finest in the world, and she even makes me feel it— ’tis so soft!”
“How old is she?”
“About thirteen, and quite beautiful — and she says every thing she can in her praise, and makes me say the same — and then she tells me, that she is very like me!
— and when I come in—’ Burney, I’ve thought of nothing but you since you were here — and indeed I never can look at that girl without thinking of you — though, in truth, the girl is no more like me than the moon — nay, she even — you would be surprised—”
He stop’d, but we beg’d him to go on.
“Why, she took great pains to pump me, to know how my affections stood — and, in short — asked how I should like her Bet for a wife? — Ha! Ha! Ha! — but I took it to be in jest — and I told her — that — I was engaged. But a little after, I heard of it at Bewdley — that she had said—’ Why Burney must have very high views, for he refused my Bet! Who can he be possibly engaged to? — he is very young indeed for any engagement of that sort?”
“How provoking for Miss S.! — how dreadful to have such a mother! to offer her — what a dangerous life for young people!”
“Why yes — if any body was to take advantage of their situation—”
“But yet, I think it’s ungrateful in you not to have visited them yet—”
“Why, I have
had no time.”
* * * * *
April 30th.
Now for a little domestic business, after so much foreign.
Mama came home on Saturday evening, in... health, spirits, and [embonpoint].... We have not heard lately from Geneva, but expect Miss Allen home next June.
My father continues in good health, excellent spirits, and ever in good humour. His book flourishes with praise, and we hear almost daily of new readers and admirers, and if he had time and inclination for it he might daily increase his acquaintance among the learned and the great. But his time is terribly occupied, and his inclinations lead to retirement and quiet. If his business did not draw him into the world by necessity, I believe he would live almost wholly with his family [and books.]
We went yesterday to make a round of visits, and drank tea at Lady Dalston’s, who is a very good sort of woman, and a very old acquaintance of both my father and mother.
I shall take notice of only two of the houses we stopt at. And first we were so happy as to be let in at Mr. Garrick’s, and saw his new house in the Adelphi Buildings, a sweet situation. The house is large and most elegantly fitted up. Mrs. Garrick received us with a politeness and sweetness of manners inseparable from her. I explained to Mr. Garrick [why no reply had been sent to his card of invitation, for] I told him my father said it required no answer as he had given it one himself, by saying at the bottom that no excuse would be taken.
“Why, ay” — said he— “I could not take an excuse — but — if he had neither come or sent me a card!!” — [he looked drolly defying to combat — ]
“O, he certainly would have done one or the other—”
“If he had not — why then we two must have fought! I think you have pretty convenient fields near your house?”
* * * * *
May.
My design upon [the correspondence of ] Mr. Crisp has succeeded to my wish. He has sent me the kindest and most flattering answer, which encourages me to write again. He says more in three lines than I shall in a hundred, while I live.
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 465